


and close to you bid me

by basementrituals



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Dubious Consent, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, hand stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementrituals/pseuds/basementrituals
Summary: mac and dennis attend sunday service.set really any time during s11-12(reposting bc i rewrote and added a lot)-“you gotta stop,” he sounds panicked, “it’s almost time to stand again.”
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	and close to you bid me

"i don't know how you can possibly still justify going to mass," dennis manages to keep the spite in his voice slight, not desiring to start a real argument on the sidewalk in front of the cathedral. he wouldn't have agreed to come if he didn't want to be here; he could have dropped mac off at the steps and driven the rest of the way to the bar like he does most other sunday mornings, but sometimes the ritual of it is nice, the time spent watching mac in reverent, trance-like prayer. he doesn't get anything from the actual service, despite how mac wants him to, he's never found comfort in the verses of a bible or the wavering drone of a hymn. the feelings he has for the catholic church itself are vehemently negative, "after all, you know - i don't get it.” 

“it’s not like that, dude,” mac says, exasperated, “it’s just what i know, you know? it makes me feel right.” 

mac’s commitment to the catholic church is as frustrating as it is sad. nonetheless, here they are together, walking the steps to the large oak double doors which are standing open. mac leads them to a sparsely occupied pew near the back of the cathedral, and they sit in the middle. this is a different church than the one mac had dragged him and charlie to a few years ago, when charlie’s mom had lied about having cancer and he’d felt nothing. it probably doesn’t actually matter, since they all follow the same basic tenets and are governed by the same hierarchy of lecherous old diddlers. he’s not really sure why mac bothered to switch churches if he wasn’t going to switch denominations as well. he wishes he would have. dennis squints at the stained glass windows along the walls, telling the story of the life of the lord and savior in vibrant color and detail. he lingers on one depicting jesus, face miserable and eyes downcast, burdened with the cross over his shoulders. all churches serve the same purpose. 

someone is playing the organ, and a woman to the right of the pulpit sings a hymn into a microphone. he doesn’t know the words to it, but he mumbles along with the rest of the congregation. hymns are easy to fake. mac is standing totally alert at his side, singing from memory, loud and off-key. his fingers are splayed out on the back of the pew in front of them, soft eyes focused intently on something dennis can’t see. the priest kisses the altar. 

“in the name of the father, and the son, and of the holy spirit,” the man's voice echoes through the high ceiling as his hand moves forehead to heart, shoulder to shoulder. 

mac nods, “amen.” 

“may the grace of our lord jesus christ, the love of god, and the fellowship of the holy spirit be with you all.” 

“and with your spirit,” mac recites automatically. 

the priest greets the congregation and begins to lead them through mass. this first part is awful, dennis hates the sin and the guilt; begging for mercy and forgiveness as if he’s done anything wrong, as if he has anything at all to feel ashamed of. 

“lord, have mercy,” mac mutters with his head hung low, eyes closed. dennis watches him, musing the reasons mac got wrapped up in this so tightly. twelve years of catholic school they each endured, and he’s the only one who still bothers, the only one who still finds value in it. "christ, have mercy." the big one, he figures, ignoring the dull twinge deep in his chest, is the promise of unconditional love and acceptance. a life better than the one he's endured so far. “lord, have mercy.” 

the next prayer passes quickly, and finally they are instructed to sit. mac, normally so excitable and prone to violence, now has his hands clasped neatly in front of him as he listens to the word of god, not unlike an obedient puppy. it's actually sort of endearing. dennis inches his own hand towards mac on the seat of the pew, and he glances down at it suspiciously. “don’t,” he warns under his breath, “not here.” 

they lock eyes from the side. “what?” dennis smiles wryly, “i’m not doing anything.” 

“dennis, don’t!” he shifts uncomfortably, pressing his hands together in his lap. 

“fine,” dennis sighs as they stand for more singing, “i’m bored.” 

“then why did you come?” mac hisses, facing forward determinately. 

“i don't know. i like the little wafers."

“the lord be with you,” the priest says.

“and with your spirit,” mac recites once again, shooting a sideways glare at dennis.

“a reading from the holy gospel, according to matthew.” 

he rolls his eyes in response. "- then the devil took him to the holy city, and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 'if you are the son of god,' he said, 'throw yourself down' -" dennis exhales a laugh, and mac swallows. “- the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘all of this i will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’ -” 

the priest begins the homily as they take their seats. they’ve got plenty of time now, so dennis resituates himself, sliding his palm to the edge of the tarnished wood and then back up along the side of mac’s leg. his hand comes to rest at the base of mac's thigh and he squeezes, tracing a circle there with his thumb. mac is doing his best to remain sober beside him, mouth pressed in a tight frown. he chews his lip as dennis curls his fingers inward. a muscle flexes in the corner of his jaw, blush creeping up his neck. it's perfect. it's almost too easy, how the softest touches send him reeling, absolutely no self control whatsoever. the voice of the priest rings in his ears as he lectures about temptation, "are you listening?" 

he never lets mac touch him like this in public, mac is too obvious about it. his caresses are rough, graceless and sincere, and it's nice, but they're also accompanied by loving stares that bore holes through his skull in a way that makes him feel overexposed. it's way too intense. mac twitches under his grip, “is nothing sacred to you?” 

dennis shrugs, lifting his chin thoughtfully as he presses down and drags the outer edge of his palm between mac's groin and his inner thigh. the action elicits a suppressed groan before mac abruptly clutches him by the wrist. “you gotta stop,” he sounds panicked, “it’s almost time to stand again.” 

it’s more satisfying this way - the start and stop twisting mac up like a rubber band until he can't focus on anything else, so he acquiesces, giving mac barely enough time to adjust himself before they rise to their feet yet again. he’s visibly tense as he mouths responses to the prayers, his face is strained with annoyance and desperation, his hands held firmly in his pockets. it's somewhat of a sorry sight, one of his favorites. dennis leans in as they’re seated again, brushing shoulders and sitting closer than before as he replaces his hand, rubbing slowly over the fabric, “you like this?" 

“jesus christ,” mac breathes before he catches dennis by the wrist a second time, holding him down where he’s hard in his pants. the melodic, near incoherent babble of prayer reverberates through the room around them as mac rolls his hips up for more friction. dennis clicks his tongue and smirks, "number three, mac,” which earns him a dirty look as he kicks down the lower bench to kneel. he traces a finger lightly along mac's bicep then, his trashy faded eagle tattoo, "so strong," he hums and mac's gaze on him immediately softens, "like saint michael." not really, not at all, but flattery is an important step in carefully refining mac's anger and lust into fervent devotion. it's like chemistry, or mixing drinks. if he does it just right, the resultant sex is easily the best he's ever had: mac trapping his arms above his head, forcing their bodies together, pinning him down with insistent, worshipful kisses. 

mac's eyes drop to his mouth as his eyelashes flutter, and he licks his own lips subconsciously. what an open fucking book, it's completely obscene. the church is all but silent as the priest prepares communion. 

"say it," dennis whispers. 

mac shakes his head from the fugue, looking around nervously at all the other parishioners bowed in quiet prayer, "dennis, please -" 

"say it. say you like it." 

"i - i like it, okay?" he resigns with a furtive whimper. 

mac does not receive communion, opting instead to watch dennis as he strolls confidently through the aisle. 

he bows when he's next in line. "the body of christ," the priest offers him a wafer with a gentle smile. 

"amen," he returns with a courteous nod, and even through the crowd of people he can feel mac's eyes on him. he motions the sign of the cross, popping the wafer into his mouth as he turns around. sure enough, mac is staring dead straight at him, dark and incredulous from their seat in the back.

"that was nice," dennis says pleasantly as he shuffles between the pews. 

"you are definitely going to hell, dude."

"all alone?" he replies curiously, pouting. 

"can we just -" mac bounces his leg, another hungry look, "can we go now, please?" 

-

soul of christ, sanctify me;

body of christ, save me;

blood of christ, inebriate me;

water from the side of christ, wash me;

passion of christ, strengthen me;

o good jesus hear me;

within your wounds hide me;

separated from you, let me never be;

from evil protect me;

at the hour of my death, call me;

and close to you bid me; that with your angels and saints,

i may be praising you forever and ever.

**Author's Note:**

> again sorry for reposting,  
> thank u for reading. love u


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